


I Swallow the Sound (and it swallows me whole)

by zenelly



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3167267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you want to shake your mind, and shake it hard, try to loosen up something up other than your meteor hurtling through space and time to a session different than the doomed one you just left. Something like a magic eight ball, which strikes you as ironic in a number of ways, especially given the remnants of said objects liberally littering the meteor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Swallow the Sound (and it swallows me whole)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twilit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilit/gifts).



> Ahahah, oh gosh, so this is the second (?) thing I've ever done for an exchange! Hopefully it lives up to the task. Thank you, Twilit, for the prompt! It was a lot of fun. Title from "Drumming Song" by Florence & the Machine, because I am terrible and predictable.
> 
> For the prompt: "I'd like to see Rose and Kanaya in something that is NOT flushed and preferably on the meteor. All other options are on the table! They are both extremely characterful ladies and being in the close proximity of the meteor is sure to set SOMETHING off, even it is something requiring Auspisticism... by or for the ladies. Perhaps tie in something with grimdark tentacles and encroaching influences of the horrorterrors?"

Space flies around you, stars and the possibilities of other universes zipping past in a tapestry of inky black. A light, brighter than the others, approaches you; or perhaps, you approach it. It envelops you, and-

Your eyes open.

Sitting up in bed, you rub the tender skin around your eyes and look around the room you have claimed for your own. Another useless attempt at seeing anything. Once you hit the white light, the possibilities unfold too quickly for your mind to fathom, and you, well.

The three year long journey through the session is all you can see now, and you don't particularly care to view it again.

Sometimes, you want to shake your mind, and shake it hard, try to loosen up something up other than your meteor hurtling through space and time to a session different than the doomed one you just left. Something like a magic eight ball, which strikes you as ironic in a number of ways, especially given the remnants of said objects liberally littering the meteor.

Carefully, you swing your feet over the side of your bed and stand, stone rough and cold under your feet. It's impossible to tell what time it is without somehow consulting Dave, and it's grown to the point where day and night don't mean anything as it is, the yellow sun of Earth a distant memory. You sleep when you are tired and wake when you are not,. Besides, light within the meteor never changes unless Kanaya is walking by.

Your hands curl in, fingertips to palms, and you stretch your arms over your head. Your shirt shifts as you do, and your brow furrows at an unfamiliar feeling.

You press curious hands to your chest and swallow at the soft, tender skin under your hands. Your bras no longer fit you, and your hips have flared out in recent days as the months pass. Luckily, your godtier robes appear to change shape as you need them to. At the very least, you won't have to worry about outgrowing those.

(Your mind, unbidden, flicks forward to you, older and harder eyed and eager, fuller of breast and leaner of face, passing into a white light and flames and a cacophony of images too myriad to sort through. It leaves you, dizzying, fleeting, and the roar of countless whispers in sibilant tongues that follows is too much to bear.)

There is a knock at the door as you attempt to regain your balance, hand braced on the desk in the room; the whispers fade to a faintly audible background noise. Carefully righting yourself, you walk to the door.

And when you open the door with a faint hiss of hydraulics, Kanaya raises an eyebrow at you, the ever-present glow of her skin forcing you to squint slightly to even look at her. She is dimmer around her clothes, the fabric blocking most of the light emanating from her skin, and your attention, for a moment, is caught by the blood-soaked cape still wrapped over the hole in her torso.

You blink and drag your eyes up.

“I had wondered if you were ever going to deign to emerge,” she says dryly, her voice clicking in unfamiliar cadences. She speaks precisely, carefully, but your hackles rise anyway. You weren’t avoiding anyone, you had been _sleeping_. And trying to get hold of the visions you’re now plagued with, not that Kanaya knows that.

 _What does she know? She knows nothing; you are far more clever and wicked than she,_ a quiet voice whispers, louder than the rest. _Hurt her._

You breathe in. Out. “I wasn’t going to attempt to hide myself away,” you inform Kanaya. “There isn’t much of a use for that on the meteor, seeing as there are only so many places to go.”

Kanaya’s head cocks to one side, and a milky membrane flickers over her eyes sideways. You flinch, surprised, and you catch Kanaya’s pupils narrowing into sudden slits before dilating again. “It has been three days since any of us last saw you. Forgive me for becoming concerned.”

You blink. Surely it hasn’t…

But clearly it has, and your hand clenches around the doorframe, because you hadn’t even realized.

“I don’t need your concern.” You shake yourself mentally and firm up your shoulders, lifting your chin to stare Kanaya down. “I am able to take care of myself, and you don’t have to worry about me.”

Kanaya’s eyes narrow, and she opens her mouth to say something before visibly biting it back. After a long moment, she growls out, in tones slightly too sub-vocal to be entirely human, “If you could take care of yourself, you would have done so. I will remember to not ensure your status is among the living should you go missing again.”

And, saying that, she turns and walks away, shoes tapping softly on the floor, her steps tight and unhappy.

Your mouth flattens into an unfriendly line.

Well, if your frustration is what she wants, then it is what Kanaya is going to get.

But no, you breathe out through your nose tightly, let it pass and walk out of your room in search of food, maddening, never-silent voices following you. If you go the opposite direction that Kanaya took, that is no one’s business but yours.

* * *

Unfortunately, that sets the tone of your interactions with Kanaya.

Where before, you were starting to almost get along (and there had been a spark of giddy interest there that you’re not going to deny), you find Kanaya infinitely drier and harder to read in person, with a proclivity for saying the exact wrong thing at the wrong time that drives under your skin. You snap back at her occasionally, ignore her other times, desperately avoid the words that rise to the forefront of your mind when you are around her.

The frustration does not abate.

* * *

Your fourteenth birthday passes in a quiet haze where you hide in the room you have claimed as yours and read aloud to yourself and pretend that this last year hasn’t been awful and frightening and while it has been thrilling, you simultaneously loved and hated every bit of it.

If Dave comes in and leans against you wordlessly, you aren’t admitting to the tears that slide down his cheeks, just as he would not say anything about the ones on yours.

(You give into the voices and scream at Kanaya later for running into you, and the sight of her eyes going narrow-pupiled in her fair face brought about an adrenaline rush that speckled your skin with goosebumps. But Kanaya is so proud, so proud and so noble and so fucking hard headed that it drive you absolutely insane.

 _Good._ )

* * *

Kanaya continues to be a thorn in your side as you travel. She makes you long for the days where you could read her messages and ignore her when it all got to be too much, but that is a significantly harder task to accomplish when she dogs your steps with a single-minded determination.

“Kanaya, drop it,” you say for what has to be the fifth time in as many minutes. You don’t know what it is about her, but she absolutely cannot seem to leave you alone. Given that her alternatives are Dave (no), Terezi (always with Dave or absent entirely), the Mayor (who is adorable but not a scintillating conversationalist), Gamzee ( _god_ no), Karkat (the only good option out of all these), or any number of corpses (which is a no for obvious reasons), you can sort of understand why Kanaya continues to seek you out.

You just wish that it was for a purpose other than arguing.

Kanaya has done nothing but argue possibilities with you for the last few weeks, at least, and there are only so many times you can answer that you don’t know before it drives you insane. She has to have some sort of purpose to her arguing, but for the life of you, you can’t figure out what it is.

“But what if-” Kanaya begins, and that’s _it_.

(The faint gibberings of a voice meant only for madness swell in your ears.)

You whirl on your heel and take a step towards Kanaya, jabbing a finger out at her breastbone. “What if, nothing. I’m not here to dither in possibilities or things I cannot undo. We are on this godforsaken meteor for the next three years because it was the only way that we were able to survive. I can’t see anything more than us arriving and then a blinding array of things that might be, and right now, everything is too far away for me to be certain of the positives of any of it.”

“There is nothing improper or wrong about attempting to sort out the possibilities,” Kanaya says tightly, and you choke back a laugh.

Ah yes. The _possibilities_. With more vitriol in your tone than you initially intended, you ask, “Weren’t you just listening? There are too many futures to see clearly. Everything hinges on the order that we arrive in the new world, who we meet first, what the situation there is. It’s too much to predict, much less control. Especially since I can’t do anything trapped here.”

For a moment, Kanaya seems like she’s holding back whatever it is that she’s trying to say, but it passes with a look of determination as she opens her mouth, full and dark-lipped in her pale, glowing face. “We could just _talk_ about it, if you chose to be any less infuriatingly obtuse.” Kanaya pauses, and then, with a deliberate sort of condescension, she says, “I would have thought you would grow out of your wriggler-worthy tantrums and tendency towards reticence.”

“Tan-” you bite out before hauling your sudden snap of temper back. You breathe in, breathe out.

It will be fine.

It _will_.

And so you straighten your back, raise your chin, and stare straight into Kanaya's dark eyes.

“No,” you say quietly, watching the outrage widen Kanaya's eyes and nostrils, her pupils narrowing into thin slits. “I don't think I am the one here given to fits of childishness.”

“Uh,” comes a new, loud, raspy voice, and you start, turn to look at Terezi, who had apparently entered the room at some point during your arguing. Her head is weaving back and forth between you and Kanaya, a grin canting her lips. You don’t understand why she’s smiling. “Do I need to step in?”

Coldly, Kanaya says, “We have this under control,” and you feel like you’re missing some vital piece to the puzzle when Terezi only laughs.

* * *

Fifteen comes and goes, and with it arrive the nightmares and never-ending pulse of soon, soon, soon that constantly catches your attention whenever you try to tear it away. You learn how to alchemize food, drink.

You cannot sleep except to enter the dream-bubbles.

Even when you do, you can feel your hold on reality slipping just slightly sideways, a bit too reminiscent of blood on your mother’s scarf and inky black raining from the sky.

* * *

The stars float by.

_How are we even breathing_ , you wonder, looking out one of the various peepholes present in the meteor. You're in space, under all technicalities, you shouldn't be able to breathe at the very least, not to mention all of the pressure differences and temperatures (or lack thereof) due to the vacuum surrounding you. You should be dead.

You cover your mouth with one hand, shaking.

You should be dead so many times over, and breathing in space is the part that has you freaked out.

That, and the fact that the temperature is balmy and comfortable, never too cold or too hot, and there's no wind despite the apparent speed of your passage, and your breaths are coming too quickly and you can't see, you can't _see_.

There's a low moan, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize that it's you.

You hear footsteps, and then a form clad only in red sits down next to you, arms braced on the table. You slant Dave a sideways glance, and he grins at you, tired and tired and his eyes, much like yours, are red around the edges. His hands, when he lifts them up to offer you a quiet fist bump, are trembling just slightly.

You knock your fists against his and quell your breaths.

Dave, if anyone, understands the hardships of seeing too many futures.

Another set of footsteps comes up behind you, however, and you tense as new, white light spills across the tabletop. You stare at your shadow for a long moment before you turn around to look up at Kanaya, the drag of your eyes and flush of your skin nothing new. Infuriating and beautiful as ever, Kanaya arches an eyebrow at you.

“Any news on what more we should prepare for, Oh Seer?”

Any benevolence you felt shrivels. Your mouth ticks into a flat line. “Nothing more than I have seen already.”

She hums, and the noise is off-putting. More akin to the sound of insect wings; something made with too many vocal chords, and for once the difference is more intriguing than off-putting. You lick your lips. “I had thought,” Kanaya says, sharp, “that the visions were meant to aid us, but all you would have us believe is that they are too vague to be of any use?”

You bite your lip hard to force yourself to think about your words before you speak. (The taste of blood does nothing to calm your anger.) “I only know what I have seen. My powers allow for only so much prediction.”

Mostly because there is too much to keep track of. The blink of an eyelash can mean twenty new endings or outcomes, and any help you might have had from Terezi disappears when she does. There’s a moment of terror and pride, mixed together in an awful, nauseating mix, because you are the only one who can see how everything should play out, and one wrong step is going to end you up in a doomed timeline with nothing to show for it. You are the only one.

You swallow uneasily.

"Are you certain we should be trusting the validity of these visions?" Kanaya asks. "Eldritch horrorterrors are not exactly renowned for their trustworthiness."

You see Dave's mouth open, but before he can get a word in, you says, falsely sweet, "Oh, yes, of course. I'm listening to every source I have! Any time you finally have something to contribute, I'll be glad to hear it."

Dave muffles his laugh in his arm, looks away when Kanaya narrows her eyes at him. "Well," he says, "I should really get going. Can Town ain't exactly going to build itself. If you need anything, let me know."

"Ah, yes, of course. The building of a false hiveblock certainly takes precedence over ascertaining the safety of our only course of action that might be infected with danger." Kanaya rolls her eyes, arms crossed tightly below her breasts.

“Ia, ia,” you murmur tiredly under your breath, and Dave slants a commiserating smile at you before he pushes back from the table, shoves his hands in his pockets, and slouches off. You catch Kanaya’s confused glance hold it, challenging. The ever-present whispers had been quiet, with your focus elsewhere, but now they surge up, insidious, quiet.

 _Have you ever thought_ , they whisper, _about what it would be like to kill someone? To wrap your hands around their throat and squeeze and feel the breath permanently leave their-_

 _I have killed_ , you remind yourself firmly, holding the thought of black ichor and slime in your mind. _I have killed many_.

 _Ah_ , they say, pleased that you have answered, _but you have never killed someone like her._

You look up at Kanaya.

Her eyes are black, and for a moment, you wonder if she can hear them too, a constant susurrus at the edge of your hearing.

 _Or perhaps,_ they add, _you would prefer something else instead. Such as her beneath you._

Your eyes flicker down to Kanaya’s mouth, her breasts, lower still to the curve of her hips, and you do not stop the flicker of your tongue across your lips.

It is not as much of a surprise as it could be when Kanaya steps forward.

 _Ah, yes_.

You stand, heart racing with anticipation as you turn to leave, dismissing Kanaya before even truly interacting with her. You hear an aborted growl behind you before you are spun again, slammed up against the cool, stone wall.

Without hesitation, you bring your arms up, setting your nails on Kanaya’s back, and you do not bother with the niceties of kissing. You bite into the full swell of Kanaya's lower lip, not caring where or if your nails catch on her skin. Kanaya lets out a shocked breath.

But a moment later, her teeth, sharper and longer than yours, dig into your lip, her tongue sweeping out as she presses in closer and closer hungrily, her cool skin and the cooler stone under your palms a sudden point of distinction from where you are growing warmer.

And this, this is what everything has been building up to.

“What, is this all you wanted?” you goad once you are released. Your words are a tad more breathless than you would like, and you suck in a deep breath. “A simple fuck and nothing more?”

Kanaya jerks back, snarling and then-

She drops to her knees, pulling your leggings down before moving your skirt up out of her way. “A kismesitude,” she answers, circling your clit with her fingertips, delicate touches at odds with the ferocity of her tone, “is nothing simple.”

Her touches are teases, nothing like what you need

Kanaya pauses for a moment, looks up at you.

You take the opportunity to catch your breath a little before you reach out, tangle your hands in her hair, brushing up against the smooth bases of Kanaya’s horns, tug her forward and nod.

Kanaya doesn’t waste any time after that, pressing her cool mouth to your cunt in a surprisingly chaste kiss before she laves her tongue across it. You shake slightly, the temperature difference stark and arousing. You lose track of time after that. Being eaten out breaks up your concentration, building your arousal higher and higher as Kanaya tastes you, drags the points of her fangs along your reddened and sensitive skin.

Eventually, Kanaya pulls back to breathe, and her chin is smeared with your wet, her eyes blown wide in a way they haven’t ever been before, and you draw yourself together slightly.

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, voice shaking but dismissive, “Is that, oh, fuck, is that all?”

Kanaya slides two fingers inside you in an answer when she goes back to eating you out, and the pain is fleeting and good, your body greedily accepting the intrusion. You wish you had enough hands to touch Kanaya as well, to bend her to your desires, but forcing her to think only of yours is appealing in a dark way. She is there for you to use.

(There is a tear of fabric that you do not think more of, head lolling back against the wall.)

You hardly register Kanaya’s mouth moving away from your vagina, so caught up in the movement of her hands, one of which has taken over rubbing your clit.

The touch of her chilled skin on your overheated thigh, however is unmistakable.

She bites you on the inner curve of your thigh. You jerk under her mouth, and find your legs spread achingly wide by her shoulders - and by a pair of dark tentacles, wrapping around your calves. From what you can see, there’s one between Kanaya’s legs as well, her skirt gone sometime before, wrapping up her still-clothed torso and around her throat in a silent, coupled tease and threat.

You moan at the sight and Kanaya curls her fingers inside of you at that moment, pressing tightly against your walls as she thrusts into your cunt and tightly rubs your clit, and just that much is enough to undo you.

You come silently, pleasure too much to be given over to something as small as sound, biting your lip and fisting your hand in Kanaya’s hair, holding her to you as she feeds deeper, your legs shaking with the force of your orgasm. Eventually, you catch your breath and lean back against the wall again.

Kanaya watches you with wide, dark eyes and your blood on her lips, and your body aches pleasantly from your orgasm. You stretch, indulgent and pleased, and something both cold and warm and inherently alien wraps around your ankle almost fondly. Looking down, you you are reminded of the grimdark tentacles, on you and on Kanaya, and your breath rushes out of you in a pleased huff of sound.

For a moment, you think Kanaya is going to try to run away, and you tighten your grip in anticipation, the tentacles latching on harder in synch with your unspoken thought.

But instead, she surges forward, _fighting_ instead of running, and you are bitten and clawed as your blood burns hotter with arousal, and when you finally sink your fingers inside of her dripping nook, Kanaya hisses, “ _Yes_.”

* * *

This is akin to no romance you have ever known before. It is blood and biting and callousness and pride, and you burn with it. Kanaya’s scorn pushes you much further in bettering yourself than you had ever known possible, whereas she cannot let you win in anything. A pity, seeing as how often she ends up losing. There are bruises on her skin from you, but the ones around her wrists come from things too large to be your hands.

You view them with a sort of satisfaction as you turn back to your whispers and your visions, knowing that Kanaya will be there to drag you out and try to put you in your place.

It is love, of a sort.

You aren’t exactly cut out for accepting kindness, after all.


End file.
